


North from Cape Town

by YellowShapedBox



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Book: The Valley of Fear, F/M, Poetry, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 05:15:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2680463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowShapedBox/pseuds/YellowShapedBox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivy looks back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	North from Cape Town

She gazes north from Cape Town, as the morning light draws near,

To that island where they might e'en now be living,

Had she once said the shadow, not the valley, was her fear,

And had he known that she would be forgiving.

 

She could not name her husband, and she feared, behind his eyes,

There was a stranger she could hardly cherish -

Yet when that man emerged, she saw the man she recognized:

The man who'd dash into a burning parish.

 

She gazes north from Cape Town, as the dawn burns out blood-red,

Writing in its fire the ancient sailor's warning.

Until the day he washed ashore, she could not think him dead;

She'd thought herself a fool to be in mourning.

 

And had she raised the bridge and hid the both of them from view,

And had he borne it, would it have availed them?

For if he'd listened to her pleas and told her all he knew,

They'd still not know what enemy assailed them.

 

She gazes north from Cape Town, with the clarity of day

Making mockery of the clamor in her spirit:

To recall the need for haste is to remember their delay;

She cried for payment, yet despairs to hear it.

 

And when that buzzard found him, though dismay was on his brow,

They spoke of worlds that only they might fathom;

Beloved and accomplice, yet she found that, then as now,

She stood upon the far side of the chasm.

 

Yet as she looks to these three waters of her manifold regrets,

She drinks good and ill together, as the strong would:

Though heavy are her sorrows, she at least has no more debts,

For she knows that she is looking out to Longwood.

**Author's Note:**

> Historically speaking, the stinger is a bit harsh, but you can't tell me Sir Arthur Conan Jingo didn't do it on purpose.


End file.
